Hallway Scene
by Mad Maudlin
Summary: You never know...


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Title: Hallway Scene   
Author: Mad Maudlin  
Email: mekamorph@yahoo.com  
House: Astronomy Tower  
Keywords: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, romance, H/Hr, post-Hogwarts  
Rating: PG for swearing   
Spoilers: None  
Summary: You never know…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

A/N: I'm not an H/Hr shipper. I'm nothing even remotely resembling an H/Hr shipper. I tolerate it in fics like DS and PoU; I can't stand it anywhere else. So why am I writing this? 

It's a crazy little thing called Zorb.

In a roundabout way, she and I agreed to write each other's favorite ship for the AT challenge. She would write Ron/Draco slash; I would write H/Hr. It's a one-shot, one-time thing. So, here I am, trying to create chemistry and interest and rampant UST where I've never seen it in canon. And I wondered why this turned out all weird…

So, in short, this fic is dedicated to Zorb, long may she wave, and to Darkflurb, who inspired most of it (even if she doesn't know it yet). Check out the oblique random reference in paragraph #79! Oh, and to Isa, who wanted to read it, and the crew of the S.S. Prince and Pauper…I'm doing this for you guys!

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Hallway Scene

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By Mad Maudlin

Harry stepped out into the hall and sighed at the rush of cool air. When he'd agreed to come to this chess tournament as Ron's moral support, he hadn't anticipated being wedged in a very small room with a very large crowd, watching the Never-Ending Match from Hell. Ron, apparently, hadn't foreseen it either; when Harry had begun making his way towards an exit, his old friend had seemed to be at his wit's end with the stoic witch he was playing against. _I thought there was supposed to be a time limit or something..._

"Ah. There you are." 

He jumped. Hermione shut the door to the tournament room and leaned against it, sighing explosively. "It's impossible in there. Whatever-her-name-is, with the horrible earrings..."

Harry consulted his enchanted program, with a chart showing all the surviving players on it. "M. Kennedy," he supplied.

"Right—she and the judges are having at it again and Ron looks like he's about to scream or cry." She shook her head and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. "I don't think I can take much more of this."

Harry didn't quite know how to respond to that; the truth was, since the judges had gone on their first break to debate an alleged infraction, only two things that had kept him from leaving. One was simple loyalty to Ron; the other was Hermione sitting next to him, pressed so close by the dense seating that their legs were in contact from ankle to hip. The condensed version of which was a casual comment: "I'm glad you came." 

Hermione blushed and looked down, freeing that stray lock of hair. She tugged it back again. "I almost didn't," she admitted. 

"Why?"

"I didn't...well...I thought it would be too uncomfortable. For Ron and me, I mean."

Harry only nodded. Saying anything would likely get him in trouble. 

"But, you know, he said he needed the moral support..." She brushed more loose hair behind her ear again, "and he still wants to be friends. So...I'm here."

"I'm glad," he said again, just to prove he'd been paying attention. 

Hermione fiddled with the scrunchie that held back her hair for several minutes. "It's sort of funny," she said, and then stopped. 

Harry prompted her, "What's funny?"

She shook her head again; more hair pulled itself loose and brushed against her face. "Well...did Ron ever tell you why we...?"

"No, he didn't...well, I mean, he said some general things, but..."

She looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "How general?"

He realized he had said too much. "General general. You made better friends than lovers, that sort of thing."

"Ah. The cliches."

"Yeah."

She tucked her hair back. "Well, really...it was all kind silly, in its way."

"Silly why?"

She found the floor immensely interesting. 

"Hermione?"

"He thought...there was someone else."

Harry was thunderstruck. "Ron _cheated_ on you?"

"No! No," she said quickly, "I mean he thought...he was convinced that I— had feelings—for someone else."

"Did you?" This was very important. 

She flushed. "Of course not." Oh. "But he said...he said that I deserved better than him."

"He would say that."

"And that he'd rather see me happy with—someone else, than to know I was miserable because I was with him."

"_Ron_ said that?" 

She nodded, fiddling with her hair further. "That's pretty much what I said. I don't think he liked that."

He smiled a bit at the image. 

Hermione suddenly gave a great frustrated growl and pulled the scrunchie out of her hair entirely. She shook her head, bending over slightly, and all that beautiful bushy brown hair swirled around her face before settling in a cascade across her shoulders. And then, as if she hadn't done enough already, she gathered it back into another ponytail, and the position of her arms caused her back to arch just _that_ much and pulled her jumper just _so_, and for a moment she happened to be the most breath-takingly beautiful thing in the hallway, or indeed, that wing of the building. Then the moment passed, and she looked at him oddly. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing, nothing." What _was_ that brown stain on the floor?

"Oh."

They stood in a reasonably companionable silence. 

"Harry?"

"Mm?"

"Do you think...I mean, is Ron getting over it?"

"Over what?"

"Over me."

"Oh...I don't really think he'll ever be _over_ you, Hermione, but...yeah, I suppose he's all right."

"Good...that's good."

"What about you?" _Merciful God in Heaven, why did I just say that?_

"What about me?"

"Are you, you know, getting over it?"

"...yes."

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Good.

The crowd suddenly came flooding out of the tournament room, talking loudly. This was terribly convenient, because first they had to open the doors, with Hermione still standing before them at the tiem. She was knocked cleanly off her feet and onto Harry, who had enough feet for the both of them. _Oh, _he thought as he caught her around the waist. _This is nice._

She quickly regained her balance and stepped away, but not too terribly far. Harry realized a moment too late that he could now take his hand off her hip. Any further awkwardness was prevented by the timely appearance of Ron, who was fuming. "That cow! That bitch! That god-damned nefarious little rat!" 

Harry and Hermione let him go on this vein for a few minutes; the hallway emptied rapidly around them "What happened?" Hermione finally asked, when the tirade seemed about over. 

Ron shook his head. "The match was voided," he said acidly, "because that lying minx was cheating."

Harry's jaw dropped. "How do you cheat at chess?" 

"Those glasses of hers? And the horrible earrings? Charmed." Ron made a face as though he'd found the mythical bogey-flavored Bertie Bott's bean. "She was getting instructions and advice from outside the building. That's why she kept appealing to the judges, to stop the clocks. Got caught when she started talking back to whoever was helping her..."

Hermione shook her head. "So she's disqualified, then?"

"Yeah. The judges have to re-arrange the entire tournament schedule." He gestured to Harry's program, where all the matches were now listed as _To Be Announced._ "All that time for nothing...slimy little—"

"Why don't we get out of here?" Hermione said, before Ron could work up any more indignation. "The Leaky Cauldron should still be open for a while, we could get something to eat."

"That sounds great," Harry said quickly. "I'll go get our cloaks." Ron, realizing he was being ganged up upon, nodded and commenced to sulk. 

Two of the match judges were arguing loudly with one another inside the room, while a photographer from the _Daily Prophet_ snapped many embarrassing pictures. Harry kept his head down to avoid being recognized and wove his way through the rows of chairs to where he and Hermione had been seated. He picked up their cloaks, then hunted under the chairs for Hermione's purse (which had been kicked three rows back) and then argued with one of the officials for a few minutes before she would hand over Ron's cloak. When he got back out into the hall, Ron had stopped sulking; instead, he and Hermione were arguing.

"What do you mean, 'nothing?"

"I mean exactly what I said."

"You two were out here alone for all that time—"

"Honestly, Ron, I don't know where you get your ideas—"

Harry cleared his throat. "Got them."

Hermione, looking very annoyed, took her cloak and purse. Ron, oddly enough, looked amused. "There's an Apparation block around the building, we'll have to go outside," he said.

Harry nodded. "Er—what were you two going on about?"

"Nothing," blurted Hermione.

Ron's eyebrows went up to his hairline. "Apparently."

"I," she announced, glaring, "need to go to the little witches' room," and marched off. 

Harry looked questioningly at Ron, who smiled a little, but somewhat sadly. "And she says I'm thick," he muttered affectionately, shaking his head. This did not enlighten Harry in the least. 

After a few seconds of silence, Ron asked, "Harry...how long has it been since you've had a date?"

"What?"

"Just asking."

"Too long, why?"

"I said, just asking."

"Are you planning to try and set me up?"

Ron smiled again. "You never know."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "Stop that. You're not supposed to be enigmatic"

"Oh, I'm not, am I?"

"No. Only Hermione is allowed to be enigmatic. You're the one who's about as subtle as a punch in the stomach." 

"Ah, I see. Thank you for reminding me."

Hermione came back rather too quickly. "All the bathrooms are locked," she said irritably. "I'll just have to use the one at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Are you ready, then?" Harry asked. She nodded, and they started towards the stairs, but Ron suddenly faked a large yawn and stretched his arms out over his head. "Something the matter, Ron?"

He sighed. "You know, I'm pretty well knackered, after that match. I think it'd be best it I went home and got some sleep. I'll have to be up early tomorrow to check the tournament re-scheduling and all...but I'm sure you two can keep entertained without me." He patted them both on the shoulder before leaving by the other stairs, and if Harry wasn't hallucinating, Hermione blushed deep scarlet and scowled at the red, retreating head. 

"Do _you_ know what he's going on about?" Harry asked her.

"Haven't a clue," she said jauntily, and fastened her cloak. "Well, do you still want to go to the Leaky Cauldron?"

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Hell, yes. "If you'd like."

"All right." She fastened her cloak and slung her purse across her shoulder. "Let's go."

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- Fine -


End file.
